Under the Gun, page 15
part #5 of The Blackmore Agency Series
It would be easier to take him out when he went home for the night—wherever that was. He’d be alone, but then Linc would already be dead. Why do I care about Linc? Is it because of Sam?
Play it by ear. It might come to that.
She cruised around looking for a spot that suited her needs. On the road that ran behind the clubhouse, more of a hard-packed dirt alley than a road, there were a couple of sketchy buildings that could have been automotive enterprises—body shops or chop shops—or combos. The one she chose had a couple of fenderless vehicles out front that looked like they hadn’t been on the road in the last decade, but the garage itself had a redeeming feature—a maintenance ladder attached to the side.
Exactly what I need.
Rifle in hand, Annie climbed up onto the flat roof and crossed to the back of the building. On her knees, she rested the HK on the low safety wall and peered through the scope. A lot of leafy trees in the way. She moved a little more to her right and had an unobstructed shot at the doorway of the clubhouse.
It was restful up there alone in the dark. Nothing to keep her company but the cicadas singing about the heat. Farther away, frogs were croaking down in the ravine. Maybe there was a creek at the bottom of the hill.
Headlights turned the corner on the next street and Annie peered through the scope. Vince had arrived. One of the guys had picked him up in a gray Ford half-ton with a dented front fender. Maybe the bikers were better at driving their bikes than a truck.
Vince opened the door wide and hopped out of the passenger seat. Annie had a clear view for a couple of seconds and drew a bead on him. Some of the members rushed out of the clubhouse to greet him before she pulled the trigger and she couldn’t get a clean shot. A lot of hollering and back-slapping, then they all swarmed inside the building and the opportunity passed.
Shit. Have to wait.
She sat on the roof for another forty-five minutes. Were they having a meeting inside now that their esteemed leader had returned? Were the assholes voting on Linc’s fate?
The vote goes the way the Pres wants it to go—most times. A lot of members are scared crapless to vote against number one—it was that way in the Regulators.
She flexed her fingers, not wanting them to be stiff when she needed to pull the trigger. Tightness in her legs hinted a cramp might be in the offing and she was about to stand up and stretch when her phone vibrated in her pocket.
Travis.
She spoke in a whisper. “Hey, I’m working.”
“I was worried.”
“Not done. I need Vince’s home address. Can you get it?”
“Yep, hang on.”
“Send it to my phone, I don’t have a pen.”
“Done. Please be careful. I hate it when you’re alone.”
“I’m careful. Call you when I’m in my hotel.”
“I love you.”
I know you do.
Sudden activity at the clubhouse caught her attention and she dropped to her knees to get ready. Two hefty bikers she didn’t recognize shoved Linc outside. His hands were tied in front of him and from a distance, his face looked black and blue.
Allowing no time for more guys to wander outside, she squeezed off two quick shots.
Pop. Pop.
Linc cranked his head around, trying to see where the shots had come from, then he leaned down and grabbed one of the knives and he ran. He headed right, running as fast as he could go towards the cover of the ravine.
Annie had no time to worry about Linc or where the dumb-ass was going, she had to get out of there. She zipped down the ladder, laid the rifle in the passenger seat and started the Mustang. She booked it to the highway glancing a couple of times in the rear view to assure that no one was following.
Half done.
Next stop—Vince Cabrelli’s residence.
THE CABRELLI HOMESTEAD was located in a shitty part of Vegas. A short street with a few houses. Some with plywood over the windows and car parts for lawn ornaments. Most of the street lights were shot out.
Nothing like the neighborhood she’d lived in out near Red Rock Canyon. Summerlin was lovely. Thinking back on it, she wished she’d kept that house.
Just for the memories.
The house belonging to the current leader of The Rule was a frame rancher in need of paint, with a one-car garage attached by an open breezeway in a sixties’ style. No lights on inside or out.
Annie parked down the block in front of an empty house with a for-sale sign in the front yard. She put the top up on the Mustang, locked the car and held the rifle easy at her side as she ran through the darkness to Vince’s house.
She circled around behind the house and found nothing but rock-hard dirt and a falling down chain link. No barbeque. Not one chair for sitting outside. Nothing.
Maybe he doesn’t spend much time here.
A peek through the grimy garage window told her his Harley was safe and sound.
She lurked in the shadows of the breezeway waiting for Vince’s return.
He might be a little longer with two dead guys outside his clubhouse. Not that Vince would give a lick what happened to them, his main concern would be getting rid of the bodies.
She wasn’t nervous. It was a job, and one she was perfectly suited for. Her abilities always held her in good stead.
Finally, headlights came down the street.
At last the asshole is here. I’m getting tired.
Annie peeked out of her hiding place, couldn’t see the truck but she thought the rumble was too loud for a pickup. She was right—it was a bike—and her heart skipped a beat when she saw who it was.
That fucking Linc. Why is he always in my face?
He parked his bike on the driveway and swaggered into the breezeway like he owned the place. He grabbed the door handle, tried to open it and cursed when he found it locked.
Annie never moved. She stood frozen and held her breath. Linc turned, caught a glimpse of her against the wall. He jumped back like the coward he was and let out a yelp.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“Same thing you are.”
He took a step closer and growled at her. “Get out of here, this is my business.”
“You didn’t thank me for saving your miserable ass.”
“What? Why would you be at the clubhouse?”
Annie could feel him staring at her in the dark and trying to figure it out.
“You’re a sniper. I figured that much out. Who do you work for? The Banditos? The Angels?”
“None of the above.”
Annie heard an engine and figured it was the pickup. She stepped out the backdoor of the breezeway and Linc followed her. “Vince is here.”
“Get out of here, Annie. Vince is mine.”
Annie giggled. “You are not your brother, Linc. I killed your brother.”
“Shut up.” He spun around and pointed his Glock at her as Vince opened the front door of the breezeway. With no time to kill Annie, Linc turned away from her, jerked the back door open and hollered, “Payback time, boss.”
Vince had already unlocked the door and stepped into the kitchen when Linc pulled the trigger. Vince went down, writhing around on the floor with a bullet in his upper back, not dead because Linc was a terrible shot. Linc was terrible at everything biker-related. He was a joke.
“You idiot,” said Annie. She raised the rifle and popped one into the back of Linc’s head, then stood over Vince and put a single shot between his eyes.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
July 13th.
ANNIE WOKE alone in her king-sized bed at the Piazza and groped on the nightstand for her phone. She texted a message.
“Done.”
Without waiting for a reply, she picked up the handset, ordered coffee and closed her eyes. Time was short. She had an early flight.
Her phone signaled, and the reply was there.
“You’re my girl.”
BLAINE SAT at the breakfast table smiling as he watched Lily and Rick make pancakes. Carm sat across from him, sipping coffee with her right hand, her left arm still in the sling.
“When is Farrell coming home?” she asked in Spanish.
“Couple more days,” Blaine said. He hadn’t told her about the stitches and he wasn’t going to. That would set off another round of weeping over Farrell.
“Mary called,” said Lily as she flipped over three pancakes. “She said Farrell was grumpy and he didn’t want to talk to her.”
“He had a rough day,” said Blaine. “He’ll be better today.”
Looking pretty proud of himself, Rick set a platter of golden pancakes on the table in front of Blaine.
Blaine helped himself to a couple and reached for the syrup. “You guys are doing well. Let me know if you need help.”
“We don’t need help,” said Lily. “Piece of cake.”
Carm took a pancake and praised the two interim cooks in Spanish.
NEIL PICKED ANNIE up at Austin-Bergstrom at ten in the morning and they went straight to the hospital.
“I’m glad you’re back, Mom.” His usual teasing countenance took a serious turn as he focused on Annie across the console. “What kind of business did you have in Vegas that was so important you had to leave Farrell?”
“That’s a hard question, sugar pop. And one I can’t answer. The last thing I wanted to do, was leave Farrell and that was before he had his setback. Some of my work is classified.”
Neil screwed up his face, “You mean like in the CIA and the FBI and stuff like that?”
“Kind of like that, yep.”
“I’ve seen those shows on TV, and you could get hurt, Mom. I don’t want that to happen.”
Annie reached across the console and squeezed his arm. “I’m back and it’s all done for now.” She pointed at the bag in the back seat. “I bought some new Harley stuff for Farrell to cheer him up.”
Neil parked carefully in the hospital lot. Like everything else he did in life, especially his baseball career, Neil strived to be perfect. A born over-achiever.
WHEN ANNIE AND NEIL arrived, Farrell was propped up a little against his pillows reading one of the magazines Jesse had brought him the day before. Annie leaned down, held him in her arms and kissed him. “So sorry I was away when… stuff happened, baby. I love you.”
“You were working, Mom. Hate it, but you have to do it.”
“Who brought all the mags, bro?” Neil picked up the latest Guns and Ammo from the pile on the bed.
“Jesse came yesterday. I needed to see him after…” He eyed Neil and said, “after I got hurt.”
Annie nodded. “He’s been sticking close to home since his last heart attack.” Annie handed Farrell the Harley bag and let him look through it.
His face lit up as he pulled out a couple of the new shirts. “You bought me all this stuff in Vegas?”
“Sure. You’re hurt and you’re my baby.”
“Thanks, Mom. I love you.”
“When can you go home, bro?” asked Neil.
“Don’t know yet. A few days, I guess.”
“Why don’t you come home to the ranch until you can work,” said Annie, “I miss you, baby, and Neil misses you too.”
“Been thinking about it and maybe I will, Mom. I’m no good to Blacky until my left arm is working again.”
Annie leaned over and hugged him. “You made me happy. I miss you so much.”
“I wanted to like be an adult and live with Blacky—like two guys out of the nest—with girlfriends n’all, but I missed my Mom.” Farrell grinned. “I found out I’m a bit of a suck.” He grinned and pointed at Neil. “A lot like my baby brother.”
Neil gave him a hand signal that Annie didn’t see.
“You’re only twenty-three, sweet thing,” said Annie. “Barely an adult yet. You’ve got lots of time to mature.”
BLAINE ENTERED Chief Calhoun’s office and plopped down in one of the guest chairs. He’d been downstairs and seen the holding cells bursting at the seams with Punos. The young gangers were hooting and hollering out curses in Spanish at the officers on duty in the lockup.
The Chief had ordered a sweep, and the squads had picked up every one of the kids they could find. Whether questioning them would be fruitful was another story.
With a Styrofoam cup in his hand, Calhoun came in and sat down. “Didn’t know you were here already, Blacky. Have you been downstairs?”
Blaine nodded. “Didn’t need to go all the way down,” he chuckled, “I could hear them from the top of the stairs.”
“I told them they’d stay locked up and all of them would be charged with triple murder. We’ll see how long it takes for one of them to roll on his best buds.”
“Speaking of best buds, Farrell and Travis had a difference of opinion in Farrell’s hospital room. I wasn’t there, but a fight broke out and Farrell ripped open his knife wound.”
Calhoun made a face. “Don’t like the sound of that.”
“That was bad enough. More anesthetic and more surgery for Farrell. I lost it and fired Travis.”
“Damn it, but I’m not saying I blame you. He probably deserved it. He’s been off center lately, with the Governor thing and whatnot.”
Blaine glanced at his phone beside him on the Chief’s desk. “I’m expecting him to call.”
The Chief nodded. “He’ll phone and want his job back. He’s done it before.”
“More than a few times. Jesse fired him a couple times in the past too.”
“Damn shame he has behavior issues. He’s a damn fine cop.”
“Hate losing him, but he’s been causing a lot of havoc lately.”
The Chief valued Travis but didn’t protest his firing. Instead he changed the subject. “Not much we can start on from yesterday’s scene. The techs aren’t nearly finished.”
“No prints in the system?”
“So many prints in the house, it will take them a good while to check them all.”
“Yeah, there could have been dozens of kids there while the murders were going down.”
“We got in touch with the owners up at their cabin in Colorado,” said the Chief. “They decided not to return until we were finished with the house. No point.”
“Save themselves some grief if they psyche themselves up and get ready for it,” said Blaine, “If you can ever be ready for your eyes to see something so horrendous.” Blaine’s cell rang, and he guessed it was Travis. Nope. LVPD.
“Detective Vargas, nice to hear from you. What’s going down in Sin City?”
“Something goin on with The Rule, that’s for sure.”
Is that why Annie was in Vegas?
“Tell me.”
“Techs are still at both scenes, but this is what I know so far. Two guys were capped outside the clubhouse last night. A motorist on ninety-five north saw bikers dragging bodies to a pickup truck and called it in.”
“And there was more?”
“The current President, Vince Cabrelli, was found dead at his residence with the VP, Linc Bolivar.”
“What killed them?”
“Head shots all. Rifle. Could have been a suppressor.”
“All identical?”
“All but one. It looked like Bolivar tried for Cabrelli and botched it. One shot with his Glock. It was still in his hand.”
“He botched it, but somebody else finished the job?”
“Right.”
“Be a big shakeup in the club now,” said Blaine. “I heard they were expanding into Texas. Maybe that will be on hold.”
“You don’t want them there.”
“No, I don’t.”
“That’s about it for this morning. I’ll let you know if we come up with a shooter. Chances are slim. No brass. No trace. A pro job.”
That’s what I was afraid of.
“Thanks for the call.” Blaine gave the story to the Chief. “Now we won’t find out who iced the guy in the Easy Rest. It’s not a single hit. It’s bigger than that.”
“I agree,” said Calhoun. “Let them kill each other off. Saves us the trouble.”
FARRELL WAS ASLEEP when Travis tiptoed into his room. He leaned close to the bed and spoke in a whisper. “I had to sneak past the nurses’ station because I’m not allowed in here.”
Farrell opened his eyes and felt a pang of regret for the condition of his partner’s face. “Yeah, I heard.”
“I wanted to say sorry. That’s all. I’m staying away from Annie from here on in, and I’m gonna phone Blacky and beg for my job back. Do you think we can still work together?”
Farrell shrugged and winced from the pain in his shoulder. He had to start healing all over again and that was the big piss off. The freezing had come out and all he had left was the pain. It reminded him of the dust-up. “Don’t know. You never keep your word, so I can’t say.”
“I’m keeping it this time. Absolutely, guaranteed.”
“Ain’t up to me, Trav. Blacky and Jesse will make the call. Jesse was here and he ain’t happy with you, not one little bit. In his mind, Annie is his wife and always will be. You trying to push in while they’re separated is pissing him off severely. You’ve got a lot of fences to mend.”
“Didn’t know the boss felt that way. Thanks.”
The nurse came into the room and waved Travis out. “Mr. Bristol, you’re not supposed to be in here. Would you mind leaving, please?”
Travis walked obediently to the door. “I’m gone, ma’am.”
JACK DROVE BLAINE to the hospital for the final checkup on his leg. Blaine waited a few minutes for the doctor, suffered through the prodding and poking of the healed area on his leg, listened to the good report and felt relief.
All good. Now I can drive myself and get back to work.
“Now that we’ve reached this stage,” said the doctor, “I want you to start some massage and physio sessions to regain your muscle tone and flexibility. You need it in your line of work.”
“It feels fine. I don’t need therapy.”
The doctor smiled. “Do you know how many people say that to me in a day?”
Blaine sighed. “Lots, I bet.”
“Yes. Lots. And believe it or not, they don’t know what they’re talking about.”
Play it by ear. It might come to that.
She cruised around looking for a spot that suited her needs. On the road that ran behind the clubhouse, more of a hard-packed dirt alley than a road, there were a couple of sketchy buildings that could have been automotive enterprises—body shops or chop shops—or combos. The one she chose had a couple of fenderless vehicles out front that looked like they hadn’t been on the road in the last decade, but the garage itself had a redeeming feature—a maintenance ladder attached to the side.
Exactly what I need.
Rifle in hand, Annie climbed up onto the flat roof and crossed to the back of the building. On her knees, she rested the HK on the low safety wall and peered through the scope. A lot of leafy trees in the way. She moved a little more to her right and had an unobstructed shot at the doorway of the clubhouse.
It was restful up there alone in the dark. Nothing to keep her company but the cicadas singing about the heat. Farther away, frogs were croaking down in the ravine. Maybe there was a creek at the bottom of the hill.
Headlights turned the corner on the next street and Annie peered through the scope. Vince had arrived. One of the guys had picked him up in a gray Ford half-ton with a dented front fender. Maybe the bikers were better at driving their bikes than a truck.
Vince opened the door wide and hopped out of the passenger seat. Annie had a clear view for a couple of seconds and drew a bead on him. Some of the members rushed out of the clubhouse to greet him before she pulled the trigger and she couldn’t get a clean shot. A lot of hollering and back-slapping, then they all swarmed inside the building and the opportunity passed.
Shit. Have to wait.
She sat on the roof for another forty-five minutes. Were they having a meeting inside now that their esteemed leader had returned? Were the assholes voting on Linc’s fate?
The vote goes the way the Pres wants it to go—most times. A lot of members are scared crapless to vote against number one—it was that way in the Regulators.
She flexed her fingers, not wanting them to be stiff when she needed to pull the trigger. Tightness in her legs hinted a cramp might be in the offing and she was about to stand up and stretch when her phone vibrated in her pocket.
Travis.
She spoke in a whisper. “Hey, I’m working.”
“I was worried.”
“Not done. I need Vince’s home address. Can you get it?”
“Yep, hang on.”
“Send it to my phone, I don’t have a pen.”
“Done. Please be careful. I hate it when you’re alone.”
“I’m careful. Call you when I’m in my hotel.”
“I love you.”
I know you do.
Sudden activity at the clubhouse caught her attention and she dropped to her knees to get ready. Two hefty bikers she didn’t recognize shoved Linc outside. His hands were tied in front of him and from a distance, his face looked black and blue.
Allowing no time for more guys to wander outside, she squeezed off two quick shots.
Pop. Pop.
Linc cranked his head around, trying to see where the shots had come from, then he leaned down and grabbed one of the knives and he ran. He headed right, running as fast as he could go towards the cover of the ravine.
Annie had no time to worry about Linc or where the dumb-ass was going, she had to get out of there. She zipped down the ladder, laid the rifle in the passenger seat and started the Mustang. She booked it to the highway glancing a couple of times in the rear view to assure that no one was following.
Half done.
Next stop—Vince Cabrelli’s residence.
THE CABRELLI HOMESTEAD was located in a shitty part of Vegas. A short street with a few houses. Some with plywood over the windows and car parts for lawn ornaments. Most of the street lights were shot out.
Nothing like the neighborhood she’d lived in out near Red Rock Canyon. Summerlin was lovely. Thinking back on it, she wished she’d kept that house.
Just for the memories.
The house belonging to the current leader of The Rule was a frame rancher in need of paint, with a one-car garage attached by an open breezeway in a sixties’ style. No lights on inside or out.
Annie parked down the block in front of an empty house with a for-sale sign in the front yard. She put the top up on the Mustang, locked the car and held the rifle easy at her side as she ran through the darkness to Vince’s house.
She circled around behind the house and found nothing but rock-hard dirt and a falling down chain link. No barbeque. Not one chair for sitting outside. Nothing.
Maybe he doesn’t spend much time here.
A peek through the grimy garage window told her his Harley was safe and sound.
She lurked in the shadows of the breezeway waiting for Vince’s return.
He might be a little longer with two dead guys outside his clubhouse. Not that Vince would give a lick what happened to them, his main concern would be getting rid of the bodies.
She wasn’t nervous. It was a job, and one she was perfectly suited for. Her abilities always held her in good stead.
Finally, headlights came down the street.
At last the asshole is here. I’m getting tired.
Annie peeked out of her hiding place, couldn’t see the truck but she thought the rumble was too loud for a pickup. She was right—it was a bike—and her heart skipped a beat when she saw who it was.
That fucking Linc. Why is he always in my face?
He parked his bike on the driveway and swaggered into the breezeway like he owned the place. He grabbed the door handle, tried to open it and cursed when he found it locked.
Annie never moved. She stood frozen and held her breath. Linc turned, caught a glimpse of her against the wall. He jumped back like the coward he was and let out a yelp.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“Same thing you are.”
He took a step closer and growled at her. “Get out of here, this is my business.”
“You didn’t thank me for saving your miserable ass.”
“What? Why would you be at the clubhouse?”
Annie could feel him staring at her in the dark and trying to figure it out.
“You’re a sniper. I figured that much out. Who do you work for? The Banditos? The Angels?”
“None of the above.”
Annie heard an engine and figured it was the pickup. She stepped out the backdoor of the breezeway and Linc followed her. “Vince is here.”
“Get out of here, Annie. Vince is mine.”
Annie giggled. “You are not your brother, Linc. I killed your brother.”
“Shut up.” He spun around and pointed his Glock at her as Vince opened the front door of the breezeway. With no time to kill Annie, Linc turned away from her, jerked the back door open and hollered, “Payback time, boss.”
Vince had already unlocked the door and stepped into the kitchen when Linc pulled the trigger. Vince went down, writhing around on the floor with a bullet in his upper back, not dead because Linc was a terrible shot. Linc was terrible at everything biker-related. He was a joke.
“You idiot,” said Annie. She raised the rifle and popped one into the back of Linc’s head, then stood over Vince and put a single shot between his eyes.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
July 13th.
ANNIE WOKE alone in her king-sized bed at the Piazza and groped on the nightstand for her phone. She texted a message.
“Done.”
Without waiting for a reply, she picked up the handset, ordered coffee and closed her eyes. Time was short. She had an early flight.
Her phone signaled, and the reply was there.
“You’re my girl.”
BLAINE SAT at the breakfast table smiling as he watched Lily and Rick make pancakes. Carm sat across from him, sipping coffee with her right hand, her left arm still in the sling.
“When is Farrell coming home?” she asked in Spanish.
“Couple more days,” Blaine said. He hadn’t told her about the stitches and he wasn’t going to. That would set off another round of weeping over Farrell.
“Mary called,” said Lily as she flipped over three pancakes. “She said Farrell was grumpy and he didn’t want to talk to her.”
“He had a rough day,” said Blaine. “He’ll be better today.”
Looking pretty proud of himself, Rick set a platter of golden pancakes on the table in front of Blaine.
Blaine helped himself to a couple and reached for the syrup. “You guys are doing well. Let me know if you need help.”
“We don’t need help,” said Lily. “Piece of cake.”
Carm took a pancake and praised the two interim cooks in Spanish.
NEIL PICKED ANNIE up at Austin-Bergstrom at ten in the morning and they went straight to the hospital.
“I’m glad you’re back, Mom.” His usual teasing countenance took a serious turn as he focused on Annie across the console. “What kind of business did you have in Vegas that was so important you had to leave Farrell?”
“That’s a hard question, sugar pop. And one I can’t answer. The last thing I wanted to do, was leave Farrell and that was before he had his setback. Some of my work is classified.”
Neil screwed up his face, “You mean like in the CIA and the FBI and stuff like that?”
“Kind of like that, yep.”
“I’ve seen those shows on TV, and you could get hurt, Mom. I don’t want that to happen.”
Annie reached across the console and squeezed his arm. “I’m back and it’s all done for now.” She pointed at the bag in the back seat. “I bought some new Harley stuff for Farrell to cheer him up.”
Neil parked carefully in the hospital lot. Like everything else he did in life, especially his baseball career, Neil strived to be perfect. A born over-achiever.
WHEN ANNIE AND NEIL arrived, Farrell was propped up a little against his pillows reading one of the magazines Jesse had brought him the day before. Annie leaned down, held him in her arms and kissed him. “So sorry I was away when… stuff happened, baby. I love you.”
“You were working, Mom. Hate it, but you have to do it.”
“Who brought all the mags, bro?” Neil picked up the latest Guns and Ammo from the pile on the bed.
“Jesse came yesterday. I needed to see him after…” He eyed Neil and said, “after I got hurt.”
Annie nodded. “He’s been sticking close to home since his last heart attack.” Annie handed Farrell the Harley bag and let him look through it.
His face lit up as he pulled out a couple of the new shirts. “You bought me all this stuff in Vegas?”
“Sure. You’re hurt and you’re my baby.”
“Thanks, Mom. I love you.”
“When can you go home, bro?” asked Neil.
“Don’t know yet. A few days, I guess.”
“Why don’t you come home to the ranch until you can work,” said Annie, “I miss you, baby, and Neil misses you too.”
“Been thinking about it and maybe I will, Mom. I’m no good to Blacky until my left arm is working again.”
Annie leaned over and hugged him. “You made me happy. I miss you so much.”
“I wanted to like be an adult and live with Blacky—like two guys out of the nest—with girlfriends n’all, but I missed my Mom.” Farrell grinned. “I found out I’m a bit of a suck.” He grinned and pointed at Neil. “A lot like my baby brother.”
Neil gave him a hand signal that Annie didn’t see.
“You’re only twenty-three, sweet thing,” said Annie. “Barely an adult yet. You’ve got lots of time to mature.”
BLAINE ENTERED Chief Calhoun’s office and plopped down in one of the guest chairs. He’d been downstairs and seen the holding cells bursting at the seams with Punos. The young gangers were hooting and hollering out curses in Spanish at the officers on duty in the lockup.
The Chief had ordered a sweep, and the squads had picked up every one of the kids they could find. Whether questioning them would be fruitful was another story.
With a Styrofoam cup in his hand, Calhoun came in and sat down. “Didn’t know you were here already, Blacky. Have you been downstairs?”
Blaine nodded. “Didn’t need to go all the way down,” he chuckled, “I could hear them from the top of the stairs.”
“I told them they’d stay locked up and all of them would be charged with triple murder. We’ll see how long it takes for one of them to roll on his best buds.”
“Speaking of best buds, Farrell and Travis had a difference of opinion in Farrell’s hospital room. I wasn’t there, but a fight broke out and Farrell ripped open his knife wound.”
Calhoun made a face. “Don’t like the sound of that.”
“That was bad enough. More anesthetic and more surgery for Farrell. I lost it and fired Travis.”
“Damn it, but I’m not saying I blame you. He probably deserved it. He’s been off center lately, with the Governor thing and whatnot.”
Blaine glanced at his phone beside him on the Chief’s desk. “I’m expecting him to call.”
The Chief nodded. “He’ll phone and want his job back. He’s done it before.”
“More than a few times. Jesse fired him a couple times in the past too.”
“Damn shame he has behavior issues. He’s a damn fine cop.”
“Hate losing him, but he’s been causing a lot of havoc lately.”
The Chief valued Travis but didn’t protest his firing. Instead he changed the subject. “Not much we can start on from yesterday’s scene. The techs aren’t nearly finished.”
“No prints in the system?”
“So many prints in the house, it will take them a good while to check them all.”
“Yeah, there could have been dozens of kids there while the murders were going down.”
“We got in touch with the owners up at their cabin in Colorado,” said the Chief. “They decided not to return until we were finished with the house. No point.”
“Save themselves some grief if they psyche themselves up and get ready for it,” said Blaine, “If you can ever be ready for your eyes to see something so horrendous.” Blaine’s cell rang, and he guessed it was Travis. Nope. LVPD.
“Detective Vargas, nice to hear from you. What’s going down in Sin City?”
“Something goin on with The Rule, that’s for sure.”
Is that why Annie was in Vegas?
“Tell me.”
“Techs are still at both scenes, but this is what I know so far. Two guys were capped outside the clubhouse last night. A motorist on ninety-five north saw bikers dragging bodies to a pickup truck and called it in.”
“And there was more?”
“The current President, Vince Cabrelli, was found dead at his residence with the VP, Linc Bolivar.”
“What killed them?”
“Head shots all. Rifle. Could have been a suppressor.”
“All identical?”
“All but one. It looked like Bolivar tried for Cabrelli and botched it. One shot with his Glock. It was still in his hand.”
“He botched it, but somebody else finished the job?”
“Right.”
“Be a big shakeup in the club now,” said Blaine. “I heard they were expanding into Texas. Maybe that will be on hold.”
“You don’t want them there.”
“No, I don’t.”
“That’s about it for this morning. I’ll let you know if we come up with a shooter. Chances are slim. No brass. No trace. A pro job.”
That’s what I was afraid of.
“Thanks for the call.” Blaine gave the story to the Chief. “Now we won’t find out who iced the guy in the Easy Rest. It’s not a single hit. It’s bigger than that.”
“I agree,” said Calhoun. “Let them kill each other off. Saves us the trouble.”
FARRELL WAS ASLEEP when Travis tiptoed into his room. He leaned close to the bed and spoke in a whisper. “I had to sneak past the nurses’ station because I’m not allowed in here.”
Farrell opened his eyes and felt a pang of regret for the condition of his partner’s face. “Yeah, I heard.”
“I wanted to say sorry. That’s all. I’m staying away from Annie from here on in, and I’m gonna phone Blacky and beg for my job back. Do you think we can still work together?”
Farrell shrugged and winced from the pain in his shoulder. He had to start healing all over again and that was the big piss off. The freezing had come out and all he had left was the pain. It reminded him of the dust-up. “Don’t know. You never keep your word, so I can’t say.”
“I’m keeping it this time. Absolutely, guaranteed.”
“Ain’t up to me, Trav. Blacky and Jesse will make the call. Jesse was here and he ain’t happy with you, not one little bit. In his mind, Annie is his wife and always will be. You trying to push in while they’re separated is pissing him off severely. You’ve got a lot of fences to mend.”
“Didn’t know the boss felt that way. Thanks.”
The nurse came into the room and waved Travis out. “Mr. Bristol, you’re not supposed to be in here. Would you mind leaving, please?”
Travis walked obediently to the door. “I’m gone, ma’am.”
JACK DROVE BLAINE to the hospital for the final checkup on his leg. Blaine waited a few minutes for the doctor, suffered through the prodding and poking of the healed area on his leg, listened to the good report and felt relief.
All good. Now I can drive myself and get back to work.
“Now that we’ve reached this stage,” said the doctor, “I want you to start some massage and physio sessions to regain your muscle tone and flexibility. You need it in your line of work.”
“It feels fine. I don’t need therapy.”
The doctor smiled. “Do you know how many people say that to me in a day?”
Blaine sighed. “Lots, I bet.”
“Yes. Lots. And believe it or not, they don’t know what they’re talking about.”
